After a time, when Raymond had not stopped quaking, Georges commanded him to look up – and Raymond, because inside he was still a lost little boy, did as he was told. There was something comforting in being back with Georges. Ever since he had followed him across the continent, Raymond had felt safe with him. I would have followed him into Hell, he thought, just as long as Hell had a ballroom.

‘I’ve seen this malady before. You’re in love, aren’t you, boy?’

Raymond’s trembling ceased as Georges’ words took him by surprise – was it that obvious? He had hardly admitted it to himself.

‘Yes, it’s written all over you. You’re in love and your head’s hardly in the ballroom at all! You’re in a spin, boy. But love will do that to a man. It isn’t for nothing that the ancients used to call it a madness.’

Love, thought Raymond. How easy it was for Georges to read him! And yet . . .

‘It’s more than that, Georges. It’s . . .’

How to describe it? If anyone in the world would understand, it would be Georges de la Motte. Georges had reinvented himself too. He too had cast off the expectations of his family to embrace the world of the ballroom. He too had tolerated the slurs from his brothers, the damage to his family’s reputation. He too had drifted so far from them that, if ever he returned to the family estates, it was not as a prodigal son but as a stranger.

Georges leaned across the table and took Raymond’s hand. ‘Boy, you’re suffering, aren’t you?’

‘I did fall in love, Georges. I know you warned me against it. A champion only has one love, and that’s the love of the dance. But—’

‘Tell me, boy, can she dance?’

‘She has some talent,’ said Raymond wistfully. ‘Captured young, perhaps she might have danced. She is no Hélène. Her left leg holds her back, but she has . . . something special. Her body might never be a champion, but in her heart she knows music. I was ambushed, Georges, in the Midnight Rooms. They broke me. She’s been helping put me back together. And now she’s betrayed me.’

‘Oh, Raymond,’ Georges said tenderly, ‘you’re mixed up. Why the Midnight Rooms? You needn’t go there. You’re a greater dancer now.’